


Haute Tension

by thedevilchicken



Category: Wimbledon
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-26
Updated: 2010-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-14 03:25:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken





	Haute Tension

**Author's Note:**

  * For [summerstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/gifts).



Wimbledon three years later was a strange affair.

Lizzie was winning, her form so seemingly effortless that it tired Peter out to watch her. They spent hours together out on the courts between tournaments, because even in retirement Peter loved the game, loved Lizzie and loving her meant wanting her to be the very best she could be – once they were actually there, however, it was difficult to spend time with her at all. She turned into a particular kind of crank that made him grumble under his breath then ply her with fruit and dreadful sitcoms until she’d calm down. Usually it worked.

This time, however, she was in an interestingly irritable mood. Her father came by and Peter left them to strategize because that was just how it went; they’d talk for hours, fighting, Lizzie yelling, her father sighing and trying hard to be the reasonable one. Peter had known all along that he had no place in that and this time, he excused himself from the suite and wandered his way away.

Dieter was in the pool. Peter met him there, not quite alone but they were close enough to it that no one complained when essentially all Peter did was pull off his trainers, peel off his socks and dangle his feet in the water. Dieter glanced his way with a melodramatic roll his eyes, swam a couple more laps then appeared by his side, arms on the edge of the pool, head cushioned on his arms.

“You’re sulking.”

Peter snorted what he hoped was indignantly, though it turned out Dieter (as usual) didn’t believe it for a second.

“Lizzie thrown you out again?”

He sighed. “Well, she’s discussing the finer points of her game with her father,” he told him, with a wry little smile. “I’m thinking fish and chips and Jeremy Kyle. What do you say?”

Dieter paused a second then dunked his head underwater. By the look of the odd proliferation of bubbles coming to the surface and a kind of gurgle audible over the sound of the other swimmers, Peter got the impression he was probably shrieking down there. He surfaced with a splash, looking just as infinitely calm as ever.

“As much as you know I love Jeremy Kyle,” he said, “I think I may have to pass.”

He pulled himself from the pool, splashing Peter rather liberally though whether he meant it or not was up for debate.

They ended up in the sauna, which seemed like a good idea at the time. Peter lay there on the bench in his towel, sweating, turning a particularly unflattering shade of bright pink, while Dieter talked to him about who knew what, just like he always had since the day they’d met. He seemed to have a talent for mindless chatter and for some totally bizarre reason Peter found it soothing.

Lizzie thought they were in love – Dieter and Peter, not Peter and her, since the latter was true enough. Peter had spluttered when she’d said it, which was never a pleasant or attractive sound; Lizzie took that as confirmation with a smug grin and her arms crossed over her chest. He’d sighed and covered his head with a pillow but as much as he’d hoped that was the end of it, it was just the beginning. She was the kind of girl who, when she got an idea in her head, just wouldn’t let it go. He loved that about her, that tenacity, but usually she didn’t use it against him.

Dieter had been in their bed the next night. Lizzie laughed and Peter blushed and he thinks he remembers cursing, but Dieter had the look of a man in his element. When he kissed Peter, it was like he’d known all along this would happen when Peter, as usual, hadn’t had a clue. He didn’t know what to do, what he was expected to do, what Lizzie expected him to do; she thought they were in love, but she’d brought them both there, she’d stayed there himself… to say he’d been confused was a complete understatement.

She kissed him then. That much he could deal with, he had practice in that, though when she dropped her robe and stood there in just her little lacy underwear, that was a step he hadn’t expected with Dieter in the room. She seemed amused by his confusion and caught his tie, turned, tugged him over to the bed with it strung over her shoulder. She hopped onto the bed and he followed her because he wasn’t sure what else to do, though he pointedly didn’t look over at Dieter who was lounging there looking just as amused as Lizzie was.

It was Dieter who loosened Peter’s tie, as Peter kissed his wife. It was Dieter who unbuttoned Peter’s shirt, as he shuffled across the bed to kneel behind him. Peter felt Dieter’s mouth against the nape of his neck as Lizzie kept him occupied, kept him distracted, then Dieter’s bare chest against his bare back that made his stomach tighten.

“Err, what have you two been planning?”

Lizzie shrugged as she unhooked her bra. Dieter’s hands skimmed over Peter’s stomach and plucked at the buckle of his belt. He didn’t need to ask again after that.

He found himself on his back and second later there were hands everywhere, divesting him of the last vestige of his dignity as he was stripped out of his shoes and socks, his trousers, underwear. He could’ve sworn he was going to blush himself to death as he lay there naked, looking up at the two of them; Lizzie leaned over and Dieter raised his brows for a moment before they kissed, the move tentative but Peter wasn’t sure what to make of it. Dieter chuckled under his breath, Lizzie snickered and shook her head. It was obvious they wouldn’t be doing that again; Peter wasn’t sure if that meant anything good for him. After all, it looked very much like two of the most important people in his life had been conspiring.

Hands again. They were everywhere, Lizzie’s plucking, rubbing lightly at his nipples as Dieter’s moved over his thighs. They parted them, making Peter blush again, though Lizzie always told him it was completely adorable. They moved up, as he watched Lizzie watching Dieter. He actually yelped when Dieter’s fingertips brushed against his cock and Lizzie snickered, resting his head against Dieter’s shoulder.

Then Dieter leaned down and took him into his mouth and every coherent thought just melted right out of his head.

Lizzie settled down next to them, stretched out on her side as she shimmied out of her underwear and let her fingers wander. Peter tried to watch her and just her, reaching over with one hand to trail his fingers between her breasts, rubbing at one of her nipples. And Dieter’s fingers shifted to skim over his balls, dipping behind as his tongue moved over him.

“I want to watch you do it,” Lizzie said, and Peter’s gaze moved over her, watching as her fingers dipped down to rub between her thighs. Peter’s heart jumped and quickened and he looked down at Dieter who pulled back to look up at him, lips red. “Peter, there’s condoms and lube in the dresser.”

“But…”

“Dieter?”

Dieter pressed his mouth to the middle of Peter’s chest then prodded him aside until he could stretch out between the two of them.

“Don’t look so scared,” he told him, as Lizzie popped open the button at the waist of his jeans and he shuffled them down over his hips. He was naked underneath, which wasn’t exactly surprising but Peter hadn’t been expecting to see his best friend naked when he’d come in that night, let alone his best friend naked and hard and his wife lying there playing with herself in their presence. “We’re not going to bite.”

“You’re going to have to touch him at some point, Peter,” Lizzie told him, and he gave her an exasperated, faintly terrified look as he pulled himself up onto his knees. Dieter was… well, Peter hated this but he was excited, hated that he was excited, hated that Lizzie was right, hated that it turned out he wanted this. Except he didn’t hate it at all and that was the weirdest part. Apparently the times he’d noticed that Dieter might be attractive to some people had encompassed a little more than ‘some people’. Unsurprisingly, it seemed he was the last one to notice.

He touched him. It felt weird, because for as much as people laughed it up about prep school boys, he’d never actually done this before. He ran his palms over Dieter’s thighs as he looked at Lizzie, the perfect picture of rapt as she lay there beside them. He ran his palm over the length of Dieter’s cock, pushed down a little over the head of it and felt his own twitch just a fraction in response. It was crazy but so very hot.

“I take it you’ve done this before?” he said, his voice sounding oddly thick, probably because he hadn’t exactly been expecting to be asking his best friend if he’d ever had sex with a man.

Dieter smirked. “What do you think?” he asked, spreading his thighs, pulling up his knees, apparently far from shy about showing off everything he’d got. “Get the lube, Peter. We’ll tell you what to do.”

They did, which was just as well because he had only the basic, general level of knowledge of the mechanics of it there in his head. Dieter talked him through the first part, making sure he felt a little less than utterly freaked out about slicking his fingers and putting them in places best not discussed in polite society – Peter was acutely aware that he wasn’t too far removed from the traditional British prude in some ways, and this was one of them. Then Lizzie took her turn, making him smile as she ripped open the condom with her teeth with a happy laugh then rolled it on over the length of him. They kissed as she slicked the lube over the condom, stroking him slowly, giving a teasing little squeeze before she lay back down, and wiped off her hand on the readily available tissues.

Then he pushed inside him, Dieter poking fun at him the whole time though he was flushed there on his back, a sheen of sweat over his skin. He looked great, which was odd to think, especially as it’d never been a conscious thought before. Apparently Lizzie was more insightful than he’d given her credit for ‘cause he was never going to look at Dieter Prohl in quite the same way again.

They all lay there after, the conversation somehow just the same as it had always been; Lizzie looked particularly like the cat that got the cream that night, he remembers, and Dieter nibbled at his neck between retorts. It was fun, strange, and he kissed them both good night before they slept. He hadn’t felt that relaxed in months.

Lizzie was upstairs in their suite then, probably wound up and on the verge of grinding her teeth; Peter sighed down in the sauna and turned his head to look at Dieter as he lay there, still talking away, eyes closed, towel slung so low down over his hips that Peter couldn’t help but give it an appreciative glance.

“So, err. How would you feel about coming upstairs?” he asked, interrupting the flow of Dieter’s monologue.

Dieter’s eyes opened; he raised a brow in his direction.

“No Jeremy Kyle?”

Peter snickered. “Not even fish and chips.”

It didn’t take much to persuade him after that – it hadn’t before, after that first night, wherever they were around the world. And there was a huge, handy shower up in their suite that was just begging for attention.

Dieter smiled, waving him toward the door. Lizzie’s tension didn’t stand a chance.


End file.
